


Everything will be alright now

by ChocolateFrogs98



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Baratheon babies, Book and show elements, Bran is kinda emo, F/M, Jonerys babies, Kinda, More or less a future fic, Ned Stark is sad, Stark babies, Time Travel, but then happy, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 11:27:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12652635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateFrogs98/pseuds/ChocolateFrogs98
Summary: When Ned Stark is despairing on the Black cells his son Bran –sorry, the Three Eyed Raven now– comes to give him a little bit of hope.





	Everything will be alright now

“My daughters,” Lord Eddard Stark mumbled in the darkness of his cell. “What about my daughters?”

He was feverish and raving; hurt, thirsty and starving. His mind flew back between the images of his daughters, scared and uncertain.

“Arya!” he called. “Sansa!”

The small part of him that was still coherent was grateful that nobody was there to hear him cry. Although, unlike what Eddard Stark believed, he was not alone. Not exactly.

When Ned opened his eyes he wasn’t on the dirty, dark dungeon anymore. No, he stood in the middle of a meadow.

« _By the gods!_ ,» he thought with despair. « _I have gone mad_ ».

“You haven’t gone mad,” a voice said behind him.

Ned spun around. In the middle of the clearing was a young man, he stood tall with dark auburn hair and a pale complexion. His eyes, a familiar blue, looked at him inexpressive. His whole face was clear and empty, like a stone.

He felt his stomach drop. That man… _No, it couldn’t be_. But yet…

“Bran?” he chanced.

The man smiled but it was empty of any feelings. “Hello, father,” he said numbly.

“Bran! But… how?”

Bran walked, _he walked_ , towards him. They had told him he would never walk again.

“I’m not Bran,” he said. “Not anymore. I’m the Three Eyed Raven now.”

Ned looked at his son with confusion. “The what?”

“The Three Eyed Raven,” he repeated. “It means I see everything. Things that are happening all around the world, things that will happen, things that have happened. Like this one. I usually can’t intervene but…” a flicker of emotion livened his eyes just a moment before it vanished.

“You mean to say you come from the future?”

Brandon just nodded. “Future to you, present to me.”

_Well, since it seems I have really gone mad…_ “Does that mean you’ll be able to walk, then?”

“No,” Bran said simply destroying Ned’s hopes with just one word. “But I’m not really here. And this is all happening inside your head. That’s why your leg doesn’t hurt anymore.”

He hadn’t even noticed but it was true. His pain was gone, his thirst and hunger, too.  “Have I really lost my mind, then,” he asked sadly.

“No,” Bran sounded slightly amused. “This is almost like a dream.”

There were worst dreams to have, Ned considered. “Since you’re from the future you can tell me what happens then,” he said. “Your sisters, are they alright?”

“That’s why I’m here. Look.”

Ned looked around the meadow, just to realize he wasn’t in the clearing anymore. He was on a solar; a very familiar solar.

“Winterfell,” he sighed. He had feared he would never see his home again.

The room hadn’t changed much from the last time he’d seen it. There were a dozen candles lightening the room from the darkness of the night. The big table was covered in parchment from one side to the other and a familiar head of auburn hair on top, facing away from him.

“Cat,” he smiled.

Little steps echoed against the stone walls. The door of the solar creaked when it opened and a little head with reddish locks popped in.

The girl looked a little younger than Bran had been when he’d left Winterfell. Her resemblance to his own children was uncanny, to Sansa mostly. Yet he knew that girl with wide brown eyes was not Sansa.

“Can I help you with something?” Ned asked the child making sure to keep his voice low as to not scare her. “What’s your name?”

“She cannot hear you,” Bran told him. “We’re not really here. This is your future.”

Ned looked back at Cat sleeping on the table. If he was in the future…

“Mother?”

Ned gasped. “Sansa.”

The girl, _his granddaughter_ ¸ hesitated for some moments on the door but then decided to go inside. “Mother?” she repeated.

Sansa awoke with a gasp. The parchments had left red marks on her cheek, her hair was out of its braid and in a mess but she was still beautiful. Her face was that of a woman and bore a strong resemblance to Catelyn. Her eyes crinkled with a smile as she saw the child but then she scowled.

“Carey Stark! What are you doing out of bed?”

Ned wondered how the child had Sansa’s name instead of her father’s. Joffrey? She didn’t look much like the Lannister bastard. Maybe Sansa had married someone beneath her station and that was why she’d kept her surname. But the child…

Carey looked down at her feet. “I had a nightmare,” she mumbled.

Sansa’s face softened. “A nightmare? Come here.”

Carey scrambled into Sansa’s lap and his daughter kissed her brow, trapping her inside her arms. The girl nuzzled her neck and Sansa rubbed her back, soothingly.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“’Twas the White Walkers,” the girl said looking up at her mother. “They came and killed everyone. Even Daena and Maya and the rest.”

Sansa’s face was sad. “Oh, baby. Has Bran been telling you stories again? The White Walkers can’t hurt you, we finished them all.”

Ned’s eyes widened in alarm and surprise. Bran just nodded.

“But-”

Sansa kissed her forehead. “They’re gone and you will never have to see them. And _if_ they came we could fight them off, we did it once already and won. Now, why don’t you go to bed?”

“Can I sleep with you and Father?”

His daughter sighed. “Carey…”

“Please?”

“Alright. But I have to finish something first,” she gestured towards the parchments on the table.

Carey pouted. “Why do you always stay so late? Can’t anyone else do it?”

Sansa laughed. “I’m the Lady of Winterfell, baby, this is my responsibility. Do you want us to _starve_?” she tickled her daughter’s stomach as she spoke.

“Noo!” Carey howled with laughter. “I don’t!”

“That’s what I thought,” Sansa smirked with satisfaction. “Now, do you want to help me?”

“Yes!”

Ned looked at his daughter and granddaughter in silence while Sansa talked about food and stores. Then he looked back at his son.

“Sansa is the Lady of Winterfell?” he asked. “What happens to your mother?”

Bran was still looking at Carey and Sansa. “She dies,” he said. “As do you.”

His eyes bulged as he felt his stomach drop. “ _What_?” he shook his head in denial. “What about Robb? He should be the Lord of Winterfell if Cat and I… If we…”

“He’s dead, too.”

It was like a blow to his stomach. “No… Robb…” he could accept his death. Even Catelyn’s somewhat. But Robb’s. “He can’t be… he’s just a boy.”

“He was murdered by the Freys,” Bran said. “Along with Mother and most of their army,” he looked back at Sansa. “Robb died and I became the Three Eyed Raven. I cannot be Lord of anything. So it fell to Sansa.”

Something was missing. “What about Rickon?”

Bran turned his empty eyes on him. “He died too.”

Ned fell to his knees. “No, not Rickon. He’s… Rickon is just a baby! He can’t be dead.”

The despair overwhelmed him as he took in the death of his eldest and youngest and his wife. Meanwhile Bran just remained standing there, unmoved.

“Your cousins are coming to visit for your birthday next week,” Sansa was saying.

“I’ll be six!” Carey announced proudly.

Sansa laughed. “I know. You’re my brave, big girl.”

“Mother, can we go to bed now?”

Ned’s heart lifted at the sound of his daughter mirth. Everything wouldn’t be lost, after all. One of his daughters was alive and happy. His son was safe, too.

Some things would end up alright.

“Father,” Bran spoke into the now empty room. “We have to get going.”

Ned looked up. He wasn’t in Winterfell anymore. Yet that hall was still familiar, if unwelcome.

“We’re in the Red Keep,” he told Bran.

“We are.”

A kid around Arya’s age turned the corner and stumbled into the corridor they were standing on. He had silvery blond curls and bright violet eyes. Eddard recoiled. _Targaryen_ , his mind screamed.

His clothes were rumpled and dusted with flour. He was missing a boot, his sock a bright red. He leaned on the wall, unknowingly right next to Ned, closing his eyes as he panted.

A fat man also came running. He was covered with flour and feathers from head to toe. His face was red and when he saw the boy his eyes narrowed. “YOU!” he bellowed.

The boy’s eyes widened. “I-”

Loud steps resounded from the other end of the corridor, making boy and man turn towards the sound. A man, dressed in fine riding clothes, stepped into the scene.

Ned would recognize that face anywhere. “Jon…” He looked grown and a little fatter than last time he’d seen him. But he also looked happy.

“Oh!” he came to a stop when he saw them. “What’s happening?”

The man bowed. “Your grace.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Sam, you know there’s no need for that.”

Ned almost had a heart attack. _Your grace_?

“Why are you covered in flour and… are those feathers?” his lips twitched with amusement.

Sam groaned. “Ask your son!” he glared at the boy.

Because of course Jon’s son would look more like a Targaryen than his own father.

Jon raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“I didn’t want to spend the whole day inside with my lessons,” the boy explained as he made a face. “So I may have played a little prank on Mr. Tarly here?”

Jon sighed. “Rhaegar…”

Ned’s heart stuttered. Rha-what? No. Had Jon…?

“He knows,” said Bran. “I told him.”

He sighed.

“It’s the third time this week,” Jon scolded his son. “Sam,” he looked at the man. “it’s alright. I’ll take it from here. Go see Gilly and Sammy.”

The man, Sam, nodded and disappeared. Jon, then, sat on the floor and patted the spot next to him. Rhaegar didn’t look happy about it but he sat down anyway.

“I don’t want to study anymore, Father,” the boy announced. “It’s _boring_. I don’t care about the stupid houses in the Stormlands or the proper way of holding a fork! I want to have fun!”

“My boy, you’re going to be king someday, once me and your mother die. King of the Seven Kingdoms and the Dragon’s Bay. You need to learn those things if you are to be a good king.”

Rhaegar looked skeptic. “But I will have a council, won’t I? They can know these stupid things.”

“The council advices, but you make the choices. The fate of the realm, of _your_ people, will always rest in you.”

The boy stared at his father with dismay. Jon must have seen that his words were not encouraging at all for he sighed. He was about to say something else, probably to soften the blow, when they were interrupted.

A little girl with dark curls and Targaryen eyes launched herself into Jon’s arms with a squeal of “Father!” and a huge grin. Laughing, the man caught her. She looked even younger than Carey was.

“Daena! I thought your mother was teaching you how to ride on Drogon,” he said even if it sounded more like a question.

“Turns out she and Rhaegar have been sneaking around at night for months and she already knows how.”

Ned turned around. Behind Daena had come a woman, her mother. She had silver hair and violet eyes, which explained the Targaryen look of both kids.

“Daenerys Targaryen,” he guessed. She was the last Targaryen, the one that Robert had sent assassins out for her.

Bran nodded. “The Mother of Dragons, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea and so on. She has a lot of titles.”

Ned stared at her, then he blinked. “But she’s his aunt.”

“Yet they love each other,” his son told him.

Jon was looking at his wife with a soft smile on his lips, then he turned his smile to his children. “Is that so?”

“Don’t encourage them, Jon.”

Jon laughed. “They’re just kids, my love, I think they need to enjoy it while they can.”

She turned sad. “Things won’t turn out for them like they did for us.”

“You don’t know that.”

Her gaze was pure steel. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Rhagear cleared his throat. “What’s happening?”

“I was just thinking that maybe you need a break, if only so you stop pranking Sam,” Jon’s voice hid warning.

Daenerys sighed. “What have you done this time?”

Rhaegar flushed. “I may have bathed him in oil and then thrown flour and feathers at him,” he mumbled.

“Rhaegar!”

Daena giggled. “That’s funny,” she said.

“No, it’s not funny. And that’s why your brother shall be cleaning the Dragon Pit for two weeks,” Jon stated.

“What? That’s not fair!”

“Tell that to Lord Tarly,” said the Queen.

Jon smiled at his son’s outrage. “I think, after Rhaegar is done with his punishment, we can go see your cousins.”

The two kids squealed with delight. “Really?” they chorused.

“It’s been some time since we’ve last seen them and I miss them too,” at Daenerys icy expression he added with a charming grin. “Come on, you know Tyrion and the council can manage without us for some days. And you need this, too.”

She relented. “Alright,” she said. “But just for a few days. No more than a week.”

Father and children cheered.

Ned turned to look at Bran. “Sansa has more children?” he wondered.

“Just Carey,” Bran smirked. “And she’s not the one Jon is talking about.”

They weren’t on the Red Keep anymore. Instead they were on a courtyard, familiar enough that Ned knew he’d been there before. It was midmorning, though the sky was clouded enough to appear much earlier, and some people were training with swords. A banner hanging by one of the stone walls told him where he was: the Stormlands

For a second he believed Bran had made a mistake and they were seeing the past instead of the future. The woman swinging the sword with such speed and grace she seemed almost to be dancing couldn’t be anyone else except Lyanna.

Then he took another look.

“ _Arya_?”

His daughter had grown into a beautiful woman, her resemblance to his sister stronger than ever. She wore leather breeches, a man’s shirt and her hair in a simple braid cutting the air behind her.

“Come on, Lya!” Arya laughed. “You can do it better than that!”

It was then that Ned noticed Arya’s opponent. She was a carbon copy of his daughter, though older than Arya, _his_ Arya, had been when he last saw her. She was a young woman, probably a little younger than Robb.

The girl, though, had blue eyes.

Both Arya and the girl fought seamlessly, moving thorough the whole yard, It was an spectacle in itself just to watch them.

“Well, at least I know those lessons with Syrio Forell worked.”

As he said this Arya ducked the girl’s sword and, crouching in the ground, spun with one leg open. She swept the girl’s feet from under her and she fell to the ground with a thud. Before she could react, Arya had pinned her down and had her sword across her throat.

“Dead,” said Arya.

The girl closed her eyes and groaned.

A boy came running with a smile. It was like looking at Jon when he was ten of age. “Now me! It’s my turn!”

Arya stood, twirling her sword. The girl on the floor scowled. “No! I want to try again!”

The boy glared at her. “Nu-uh, you can’t. It’s my turn!”

“She’s going to beat you anyway.”

“Lyanna!” Arya admonished her.

Ned smiled at the name. It fit perfectly the young spirited girl.

“Like you have done any better,” said the boy.

“Neddy!”

Ned’s chest tightened and he looked closer at the boy who had his name.

Lyanna pushed him. “Get lost. Mother, please, let me try again. I know I can do better.”

Even if Ned had been expecting it, it was still a surprise to learn that Arya had two kids. He still remembered a conversation they had time ago.

« _You will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be knights and princes and lords_ » he’d told her.

« _No_ ,» she had said, « _that’s Sansa_ ». _That’s not me_.

And yet…

As Arya watched her kids squabbling, three more children came running. Dark haired the lot of them and with blue or gray eyes.

“Mother! Mother!” they cried.

Ned’s eyebrows rose and he looked at Bran. “They are all hers?”

His boy nodded. “The boy is Brenan, he’s ten. The girls are Eirwen, or just Wen, who’s eight, and Maya, of five.”

“What’s wrong?” Arya wondered with a frown. “Where’s Connan?”

At Eddard’s look, Bran clarified. “Yes, Connan is her son, too. He’s only three.”

He was even impressed. And a little angry that someone had gotten his little girl pregnant six times.

“He’s chasing cats,” Wen explained. “He says he wants to be a waterdancer just like you.”

She laughed. “Have you warned Maester Jikken? He will end up full of scratches, just like you all did.”

“Yeah, he knows,” said Brenan. “He laughed and said he’d been waiting for this moment for months.”

Maya tugged on her mother’s arm. “But Mother, did you know? Did you?”

“Know what?” Arya looked as confused as Ned felt.

“There was a raven,” Wen explained handing her a small piece of parchment. “It says that Uncle Jon, Aunt Daenerys and the kids are coming to visit in a few days.”

Arya groaned, even if she had a smile on her face. “Ughh! More of you? I can’t hardly even handle you.”

The kids shared a look, Lyanna smirked. The oldest raised her sword. “Let’s get her!”

Her siblings joined in on the war cry. Laughing, Arya danced away from them, blocking them with her wooden sword when they got too close.

A booming laugh echoed in the yard. It came from a handsome man, tall, black haired and blue eyed. « _Robert!_ » his mind screamed. Yet he knew that cheerful man with dimpled cheeks wasn’t Robert. Just probably one of his bastards.

“I’m afraid they’ve turned against you,” he called out to Arya.

She twirled to avoid Wen’s hands, falling straight into Neddy’s waiting arms. “I have it under control, Gendry” she growled.

Ned remembered the bastard blacksmith he met not long ago. How had he ended Lord of Storm’s End and marrying his daughter?

Gendry crossed the yard and caught Brenan, swinging him over his shoulder. The boy yelped.

“He’s got me! Help!”

The once blacksmith also grabbed Wen with his free hand and trapped her against his chest. She giggled as she struggled.

“We’re losing!” Neddy called fighting to keep his hold on his mother.

Lyanna also saw it. “Maya! Attack him!”

Little Maya latched onto her father’s leg and smiled up at him. “I got you now. Surrender!”

“He’s not slowing down!” Neddy cried. “Do something!”

Lyanna jumped onto Gendry’s back. “Let them go!”

He walked as if he wasn’t carrying four kids until he was in front of Arya. “M’lady,” he bowed.

She grinned up at him. “My lord.”

Their kids all groaned. “Not this again!” Brenan exclaimed, his face turning red from being upside down.

“I have come to your dashing rescue.”

She rolled her eyes. “My hero. What would I do without you?”

“You probably wouldn’t have these little pests to worry about,” he admitted.

“HEY!”

She snorted. “Maybe I like these little pests.”

“Thank you, Mother,” the little pests chorused.

“Do I get a reward?” Gendry asked, his eyes twinkling.

Arya’s eyes were also mischievous. “I can think of something.”

She stood on her tiptoes while he leaned down. Their lips met on a kiss far more heated that it was appropriate in such a public setting.

“Ewww!”

“My eyes!”

“Ugghh!”

“I will have nightmares about this!”

“Come on! You can’t keep your hands off each other for even a minute?”

Their kids vanished grumbling to themselves with variant expressions of disgust. Arya and Gendry grinned at each other, thoroughly amused. They looked so in love, even after six kids together, that Ned couldn’t help but smile fondly, a warm feeling taking residence on his chest. They reminded him of him and Cat.

« _This is what Robert and Lyanna would have looked like_ » he thought to himself. Even if a part of him doubted they would ever have fallen so in love like his daughter and the blacksmith.

“She looks happy,” he told Bran. “Even if she has married a high lord and is ruling his castle.”

Bran didn’t take his eyes off the couple. “It’s because it’s him. It wouldn’t have worked with anyone else.”

Gendry laid a hand over Arya’s stomach, his face turning tender. She put hers over his and they kissed again, this time softly. Ned recognized the gesture.

He looked at Bran. “She’s not pregnant again, is she?”

“It will be another boy. They will call him Robert.”

“Alright, that’s going way too far,” he stated rolling up his sleeves to beat up the bastard boy that had dared to put _seven_ babies on his daughter’s belly.

And they were still young. Gods, how old was Arya when she had Lyanna?

Yes, he was going to kill that boy.

Behind him Bran sighed. “We’re going back now, Father. Before you try to do something stupid.

And then he was back on his cell, starving, hurting and alone, but with a smile on his face.

There were some things that would turn out alright in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> THE KID'S AGES:  
> Stark: Carey - 6.  
> Targaryen:  
>  Rhaegar - 9.  
>  Daena - 5.  
> Baratheon:  
>  Lyanna - 13.  
>  Eddard - 11.  
>  Brenan - 10.  
>  Eirwen - 8.  
>  Maya - 5.  
>  Connan - 3.  
>  (Robert)
> 
>  
> 
> Don’t ask me who’s Carey’s father and Sansa’s husband because I don’t know. Whoever makes you happy, I guess.  
> GENDRY AND ARYA WILL LIVE LONG HAPPY LIVES AND HAVE LOTS OF CHILDREN AND TRAUMATIZE THEM WITH THEIR NONSTOP FLIRTING AND YOU WILL HAVE TO PRY THIS FROM MY COLD, DEAD HANDS.  
> (Come on, their families are awfully fertile. Don’t tell me Arya wouldn’t get knocked up with just Gendry sneezing).  
> In my head this is how it ends, with Sansa happily as Lady Stark of Winterfell, Jon and Dany ruling on King’s Landing, and Arya and Gendry making murder babies on Storm’s End.  
> SHUT UP! THIS IS WHAT WILL HAPPEN.  
> (And Bran… well, he will be Bran).  
> I hope you liked it! Leave a review!  
> CF98.


End file.
